


Turned Bitch

by LazyBaker



Category: Stranger Things (TV 2016)
Genre: Homophobic Language, Lifeguard Billy, Light Dom/sub, M/M, Scoops Ahoy Steve, Sex with a Car
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-02
Updated: 2019-07-02
Packaged: 2020-06-02 23:27:54
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,332
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19451686
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LazyBaker/pseuds/LazyBaker
Summary: Steve’s rock bottom has a name—Billy Hargrove.





	Turned Bitch

There’s only one thing in the world Billy Hargrove likes and maybe even _loves_ and it’s his camaro. Steve should have seen it coming, but when he’s around Billy thinking goes by the wayside.

The gear stick is _big_.

It’s a tight fit. The top of the knob is _wide_ and Steve is so sure it won’t fit inside him. No amount of KY and spit and will power is going to make Steve open enough for that thing. He’s so sure of it. 

Tells Billy that when he asks Steve in the quiet of the Starcourt parking garage after closing if he knows how to drive stick.

Steve does. The beemer’s a manual. They both know it. Billy’s fucked him enough times in Steve’s car to know every inch of it.

He lies and says he doesn’t.

But that’s Billy for you. A bastard that’s sure the world’s going to come crashing down any minute except when he rocks optimism just as hard as his blue jeans for Steve and the possibilities of what he can take.

The camaro’s not meant for two guys as big as them to be doing this.

Steve’s back aches. Hunched over, cramped in the front seat. Knees on both seats. Split open on the fat gear stick. Pop can thick. Warm from the summer heat, warmer than any cock, warmer than Billy’s cock inside of him. Melts him from the inside out. Short and fat, it’s just enough to tease Steve, stretch him wide and stop short from rubbing up on that sweet spot inside him.

It’s not enough, though. It’s not a dick. Steve needs a dick these days. He _needs_ Billy’s dick and Billy’s hands and _Billy_ to get him off. 

No one else would work. No one else would want to. 

Steve’s a prom king who graduated a loser.

“I think—I think we should break up.” Steve says. Opens his eyes just enough to squint at Billy. His head’s bent. Keeps knocking into the camaro’s roof. His neck’s already sore.

It’s the middle of July. The camaro’s windows are all rolled down with a slight breeze coming in now that it’s hours past sundown. The roof of the parking garage is empty except for the baby blue camaro and Steve’s old beemer parked side by side.

Stars light up the sky. It’d be romantic if Steve was with anyone else.

“I don’t remember asking you out, Stevie.” Billy says. Curls stick to his forehead. His lit cigarette flashes cherry hot when he inhales. He bites it between his teeth. “We dating all the sudden? You my girl, baby?”

Steve flushes. All of him sticks to the powder blue upholstery. Makes the leather creak when he moves himself up and down on the stick shift, wanting more and not finding it, cock leaking a mess all over himself.

“You know what I mean.” Steve says.

There’s barely any space separating them. 

Billy’s planted himself in the middle of the backseat. Tank top dark and damp with sweat. Legs spread wide, knees digging into the backs of the seats up front, thighs thick and relaxed. Just watching Steve. Doesn’t even have his dick out and that picks at Steve.

Billy had told him to strip. Steve had just—done it. Weeks of getting fucked by Billy has turned his brain to mush and trashed any dignity he had left that Scoops hadn’t already taken care of.

Billy’s jeans are tented. Testing the zipper. A loose grip on himself. Said he’s waiting for Steve. Wants to watch. Steve can see Billy twitch when Steve moans.

Steve glares as much as he can at Billy. Doesn’t care how red his face is or how hard his dick gets when Billy’s mean.

“This is it.” He says it firmly this time. “The last time.”

“Okay.”

“I mean it. This is—we’re over. After this, we’re through.”

“That’s what you said the last time, baby. So.” Billy takes one last drag of his cigarette and flicks the stub out the window. Blows the smoke in Steve’s glare. Pinches Steve’s nipple.

Steve flashes hot, twitches, sinks down till he bottoms out, ass on the console, the gear stick heavy and heated inside of him, unyielding. 

His eyes flutter shut. He circles his hips. Bites at his bottom lip till it throbs in time with his cock. Mötley Crüe is on the radio telling Steve to take it. And he does. Focuses on that tease of _almost_ inside of him. Let’s it build up into something more.

“She making you feel good, baby?” Billy says. Sings the words to a tune much sweeter. 

Steve’s head starts to hang between his shoulders. All of his attention on the fat gear stick inside of him. The sound of lube and spit that slicked him and the camaro up squelches. Feels Billy’s gaze. Let’s it touch him when Billy won’t.

“You can talk and fuck at the same time, I know you can, babydoll.” Billy says. Pinches Steve again, this time on the thigh. 

Steve can’t hold back his whimpers so they fall out of him, mouth open and lax. Drool slips out of his mouth, onto his dick that jumps. Leaks. He grips the back of the car seats tighter to keep himself from reaching down and jerking himself off. Concentrates on the up and down. The burn in his thighs with every lift. 

Billy sighs. “I guess it’s good this is the last time. Meant to be and shit.”

He pulls out a set of motel keys from his pocket. Room 6. Shows them to Steve with a grin. Steve goes still.

They’ve never fucked in a bed. Steve doesn’t even have Billy’s phone number.

There’s no more damning proof that Steve’s an absolute moron than his heart picking up, skipping, at the sight of those keys.

“Mrs. Wheeler gave’m to me.” Billy says then he’s laughing, snickering at first, then full bodied, shaking laughter. He wipes at his eyes. Jingles the keys at Steve. “I guess if we’re through, you won’t mind, right?”

Steve’s shaking his head before he can think to ask _Nancy’s mom?_

Billy spins the keys around his finger. Catches them in his palm. Holds them out the open window.

“Tell me you love me, King Steve.” Billy says. Taps Steve’s right hand. “Don’t stop fucking yourself, baby. Keep going.”

Steve’s throat goes tight. “Don’t.”

“Don’t what? Fuck your ex’s mom?” Billy snorts. Kicks his boot up onto the console. Pushes the underside against Steve’s dick and Steve jerks, his hips instinctively grinding up on the dirty rubber sole. Too rough. Too little pressure, still. 

Billy presses the toe to Steve’s cockhead. Steve _keens_ , rocking back on the gear stick and up towards Billy’s boot and spurts pre-come on it.

Billy clicks his tongue at him.

“Such a mess, baby, gonna make you lick it up, how’s that sound?” 

Steve nods his head. If he says anything, it’ll be dumb. Embarrassing. He’s already too hot. There’s no air inside the camaro, despite the night breeze. It’s stuffy and too warm. Billy runs hot. The stink of nicotine sticks to his skin.

“Tell me.” Billy says again, hand over his fly, picking at the button. “Say you love me. I wanna hear it, baby. And I know you wanna say it.”

Steve shakes his head, his throat closing up around the knot that’s tied itself up and is impossible to swallow. His head’s going fuzzy. He can’t think. Can’t focus. His entire body is burning, throbbing, spit on the camaro to roast.

It’s always like this with Billy. He can’t _think_. And when Billy’s had his fun, Steve’s left thinking too much on shit that doesn’t matter. He’s going to be stuck at Scoops Ahoy. Stuck in Hawkins. All his life he’s going to be stuck because Billy won’t let him _think_.

_As long as you try, baby, it’ll slide right in._

Billy has said it into his ear. Whispered it softly while he had his fingers inside of Steve, three of them wet with Steve’s own spit. Made the words ache. Made Steve want it. Bent over the open door of the camaro, eyes on the gear stick, Steve believed Billy. It’ll fit. And it did.

That’s what Billy’s good at. All he has to do is turn his voice down low, keep his touch soft at the start, make Steve think he cares _just enough_ and Steve’ll do whatever he says. Calls Steve _sweet thing, pretty boy, baby,_ and Steve’s halfway to paradise with his mouth open and ready and his mind shut off.

Billy dangles the motel key out the window by one finger.

“Say it and I’ll let you suck me off.” Billy says. Pops the button on his fly, unzips. Stuffs his hands into his jeans and starts to rub himself. 

Steve eyes where Billy’s hand disappears into his jeans. Licks his lips. Wants it in his mouth. _Wants_ to suck him. 

“Come on. I know you’ve got a mouth on you, Stevie Nicks. Just three little words and I’ll forget the old hag.”

“Fuck off, bitch.”

Billy laughs. 

“When’s the last time you even fucked a girl?” Billy pushes the toe of his boot underneath Steve’s balls, keeps Steve from going back down on the gear stick. “Useless fuckin’ thing now that you know you’ve got a pussy, ain’t that right? All it’s good for is takin’ a piss.”

Steve shudders, clenches tight around the gear stick. His dick spurts more spunk and he thinks, for a second, he’s going to come. He’s tense all the way down. Thighs burning from keeping himself raised up on Billy’s boot. Sweat drips down his nose. 

Head pressed against the camaro’s roof, he’s stuck looking down at his own cock, at Billy’s jizz covered boot toeing his balls, rubbing them with little taps, nudges. The pointed toe is near painful. His thighs are trembling. His nails tear into the upholstery. There’s no air to breathe. The widest part of the stick shift is at his rim, keeping him spread wide. He doesn’t think he’ll be able to keep himself up much longer.

“Asshole.” Steve says quietly, then louder, anger swelling in his chest, his dick so hard he could cry. “You’re such a fucking asswipe. Like. Fucking shit. _Jesus fucking christ_.” Steve spits out. The leather of the seats creak. The shift stick not enough. Steve glares Billy in his baby blues. “I love you. I fucking love you, motherfucker.”

“ _Baby_.” Billy breathes out. His hands come to cup Steve’s cheeks. The sound of the motel key hitting the pavement is distant, muffled by the blood roaring in Steve’s ears and Billy kissing him softly on the lips. “You’re such a fuckin’ faggot. _Fuck_. That’s hot.”

Billy can be gentle sometimes. When Steve’s not expecting it. When Steve’s pissed off. Billy will soften and turn his touch into honey. Change into a boy who might like Steve and who Steve might, actually, really like a little bit too.

He touches Steve’s face. Runs his fingers over Steve’s lips like he’s tracing the words. His boot’s gone. Steve’s thighs give out and he sinks back down with a cry then Billy’s hand is on his dick and it’s too much. 

He jerks Steve off hard and fast with a dry palm and Steve struggles to kiss Billy back, his entire body tensing up, going stiff as he comes thick over Billy’s hand and down onto the console, clenching around the gear stick. Billy doesn’t stop touching him, not till Steve is whining into his mouth, telling him to stop, _that it hurts_ , but Billy keeps going till Steve is tensing again. Somehow. Impossibly. 

Billy kisses Steve through it. Calls him Stevie Nicks. Tells him he’s pretty. Steve got rejected by every college. Wears a sailor uniform daily. No girl wants to be seen with him. Billy thinks he’s pretty. Tells him his mouth is made to be fucked. Tucks Steve’s hair behind his ear. Wants him.

Billy pries Steve’s hands off the front seats. Places them on his thighs. Rubs at Steve’s wrists till Steve moves. He’s shaking and he’s got tears in his eyes making it harder to see in the dark, but he knows where he’s going. Hisses when he lifts off from the gear stick. Tries not to focus on the slick noise it makes. Leans between the two front seats to nose at Billy’s fly.

Billy takes his dick out and Steve takes him into his mouth, sucks him wet and sloppy. Closes his eyes. Loses himself to Billy’s thighs underneath him, Billy’s cock in his mouth, Billy’s hands in his hair, Billy’s breath on the back of his neck when he curls in and over Steve, scratching lines down Steve’s bare back.

Billy tugs Steve up by the hair afterwards, kisses his spunk from Steve’s mouth until it gets lost between one touch and the next. Tugs Steve into the backseat with him so there’s not an inch between them that isn’t touching.

It’s sweaty and too hot and there’s no leg room, but Steve starts to settle. The night breeze is nice. Billy’s arm is around his shoulders. Steve huddles as close as he can.

“Not so bad for a last time, huh?” Billy says. He combs Steve’s hair back with his fingers. Steve nods. Had repeated it over and over in his head all day. _We’re done. Fuck off. Leave me alone._ He’d meant it.

He can’t work at Scoops forever. He can’t do these things with Billy forever either. He has to _think_ and figure something out. If he’s still working at Scoops by the end of the summer, Steve’s gonna drive himself into the quarry.

Billy lights up another smoke. Takes a drag and holds it up to Steve’s lips.

Instead, Steve takes the cigarette and kisses the inside of Billy’s wrist and means that too. 

**Author's Note:**

> [tumblr](http://granpappy-winchester.tumblr.com)


End file.
